Twisting the Knife
by Faye Dartmouth
Summary: This isn't really the outcome Rick wanted, but Billy's alive. Rick thinks it'll do.


Title: Twisting the Knife

Disclaimer: I do not own Chaos.

A/N: Beta'ed by **sockie1000**. This is mostly gratuitous (and bloody) whump. Nothing unexpected from me :)

Summary: This isn't really the outcome Rick wanted, but Billy's alive. Rick thinks it'll do.

-o-

The knife goes in with a surprising lack of resistance. At first, Billy can only feel the pressure, a strange weight against his stomach. He hears the sound of his skin giving way, and he blinks once, eyes focusing on the satisfied gleam in his attacker's face.

Then, he feels the pain.

It explodes, burning like fire across his gut. Nausea swells and his heart stutters while everything goes vaguely distant and numb. He becomes acutely aware of his body, and his hands start to tingle as the blood drains precariously from his brain, leaving him lightheaded.

A hand grips his shoulder, the firmness of the grip startling him, but he's helpless as he's drawn closer. There's hot breath on his cheek before a voice resounds hollowly in his ear. "Yours is not the life I want."

Then, the knife twists.

Billy feels the metal grating against his insides, marring the skin and opening a gouging wound across his stomach. The blade is cold and sharp, suffused by hot blood, which starts to gush in earnest. He gasps, eyes wide as the knife twists again, digging deeper before it is finally - mercilessly - yanked free.

The man releases him, and Billy looks down in horror.

There's blood. So much blood.

Looking up, he can only gape.

The man is still holding the knife, which glints menacingly with fresh blood. He smirks. "But it'll do."

Billy can't even breathe as his knees give way, and he crumbles, consciousness fading fast while his slack fingers grasp pointlessly at the blood.

-o-

"No," Rick all but yells into the phone. "An immediate extraction is _immediate,_ not three hours from now!"

The voice on the other end of the line is garbled, and Rick can hear conversation. There's a distant exchange, and the voice returns. "Two hours," it says. "Best we can do."

"Look," Rick says, his breathing quickening as he grips the phone tighter. "Call Langley. Call the damn White House for all I care. The operation is compromised, and the only thing that will salvage anything is if we get our man out alive."

"Do you have a visual confirmation on your man?" the voice asks.

Rick swallows. "He's activated his emergency beacon," he says, glancing nervously at the warehouse where Michael and Casey are sweeping and securing what little is left. "If he did that, then he's been made. You and I both know what happened if he's been made."

There's another pause, indistinct conversation picking up again on the other end of the line. When the voice comes back, it sounds weary. "You sure we're compromised?"

Rick represses a shudder. Billy had been the one who'd promised extraction would be his last resort. And the entire network of arms dealers is gone, which means they know something's up. All things put together, there's really only one realistic conclusion.

They made Billy, cleaned up loose ends, and got the hell out.

Which means it's up to the ODS to salvage what they can.

To salvage_ Billy._

Because the Scot hasn't made any other attempt at contact, and his distress beacon is still live.

Rick feels himself trembling. "I'm sure of it," he says with as much confidence as he can bolster. "We need immediate extraction."

"Roger that," the voice says. "We'll be there in ten minutes."

"Copy that," Rick replies. "Thank you."

The line goes dead, and Rick wants to feel relieved. Extraction is coming. That means rescue.

But then he looks at the building again, large and newly vacant. They've tracked Billy's signal this far, but there's no sign of him.

The feeling of dread builds in his gut - he hadn't wanted to stay out to make the call, but Michael had insisted. Now, Rick's not sure he wants to go in.

Nausea twists through him, but he swallows it back. He knows what he has to do.

He starts to run.

He moves with his gun out, but he doesn't get very far before he realizes it's a moot point. The place is well and truly abandoned. More than that, it's ransacked with desks and files tipped everywhere and singed trashcans lining the walls. The entire operation is a bust, then. There's nothing left.

There's nothing...

Then Rick rounds the corner into the loading bay.

And his stomach rolls.

It's a violent reaction, and he pulls up to a stop, his breath catching painfully in his throat. Because there's Michael and Casey, and on the floor between them...

Billy.

Billy's face is ghostly pale, his stubble stark and black against the milkiness. His mouth hangs open, but there's no sign of breathing. Because the blood-

Rick almost retches. He's never been bothered by blood, but there's so much. It's all over Billy's shirt and pants, coating his hands and pooling thickly on the floor. Michael's kneeling in it, knees soaked, and Casey's hands are stained and slick. Rick's never seen this much blood; he doesn't even know how someone could survive losing that much.

Billy's blood.

Casey swears, shaking his head. "Wound's too big," he says tautly. "He needs a hospital - now."

Michael's expression is grave, and he looks to Rick. "Did you get the ETA?"

Rick hears the words, but he doesn't understand them. They don't make sense; nothing makes sense.

"Martinez," Michael snaps, voice sharp. "What's the ETA?"

Rick startles. "Oh. Um," he fumbles, trying to remember how to function. "Ten minutes."

Michael glances back toward Casey. "Is that enough?"

Casey purses his lips, eyes back on Billy's unmoving form. "It'll do," he mutters, pressing down harder. "It'll have to do."

-o-

For all the work Rick's done up until this point, for all his training and his skills and his knowledges, he's mostly useless. Now that the mission is out of play, he's nothing more than a bystander, and he's helpless when the extraction team arrives and works to save Billy's life.

The army medic is no-nonsense in his approach, and when they see the severity of the wounds, the extraction team immediately diverts them to the nearest base with medical facilities. It's not a long flight, but it's long enough.

Squeezed into the chopper, watching the life literally drain from Billy's body, it's too long.

As the medic changes the bandage, Rick sees a good look at the wound. It's obscured with all the blood, but the gnarled flesh is easy enough to make out. The wound is gaping, a torn hole in the flesh and Rick can see the white of intestines before the medic applies a fresh pressure bandage and starts to hook up an IV.

Billy's vital crash as they land, and the medic is straddling the stretcher, pressing vigorously on Billy's chest, as the doctor meets them in the landing area. Billy is whisked away after that, and the ODS is left in a sparse waiting area.

Michael has to make calls, and Casey tracks down a lead as to who betrayed them. When the doctor comes out hours later, she looks tired. She doesn't beat around the bush, but tells Rick that Billy's alive, but not by much. He's already septic, and the infection is sure to spread. His odds aren't great, and the next few weeks could be rough.

But when Rick stands next to Billy, watching as a machine breathes for him, he listens to the heart monitor and holds Billy's hand. The mission is a wash, all their hard work is for nothing, and Billy's hanging onto life by a thread.

This isn't really the outcome Rick wanted, but Billy's alive.

Rick thinks it'll do.

-o-

Billy wakes slowly. It comes in heavy bursts, strange moments of suspended reality, punctuated by pain. Sometimes there are voices; other times, touch. Billy still feels like he's burning alive, and every time he thinks he may rise above it, it pulls him back down again into the dark.

The sensations ebb and flow, and when his eyes finally stay open, he realizes rather quickly he's in a hospital.

He blinks a few times, trying to make sense of that. He'd been undercover. It'd been a tenuous mission, but an important one. The CIA had been tracking the group for years, and every asset and operative that got close had ended up dead. The ODS had thought they could do better.

Billy's not so sure about that anymore.

Furrowing his brow, he swallows and finds it difficult. He winces, which ignites fresh pain in his abdomen. Tears prick at his eyes and even the mere act of rolling his head seems to take monumental effort.

It's worth it, though.

Because his team is there.

They look horrid. Michael's sporting the making's of a beard and Casey looks like he's ready to strangle something. Poor Rick simply looks beat, as though he hasn't slept in days.

Which is to say, it's one of the most beautiful things Billy has ever seen.

"You really with us?" Michael asks, sounding a little guarded.

Billy has to wet his lips, trying to get some saliva in his mouth to speak. "I seem to be," he says, the words garbled.

His team still seems to understand. Rick's face breaks out in a grin. "Thank God."

Casey grunts. "You've made us wait long enough."

Billy nods slightly, but mostly tries to stay as still as possible. "My apologies," he murmurs, sleep already pulling at his fuzzy brain. He's not ready yet, though, and he takes a steadying breath as he focuses on his teammates again. "Wha' happened?"

Rick's face falls, and Casey looks to Michael. Michael clears his throat. "You were stabbed."

"I remember that," Billy says. "I mean, what happened to the mission?"

Rick has gone positively pale and Casey's face goes hard. Michael seems to be working to retain his composure. "We can talk about that later," Michael says.

Billy shakes his head. "I nearly died for it," he argues softly but firmly. "You can't deny me this."

Michael looks like he wants to argue, but they've been through too much together for him to bother. He sighs. "It's a bust," he admits. "We lost everything. Every lead, every contact. We might be able to get something based on what you remember, but...I'm sorry. It was all for nothing."

Maybe it's not unexpected, but the force of the admission still hits Billy hard. Everything he'd gone through, everything he'd sacrificed - for nothing. Billy's willing to put his life on the line for his job, but he likes it to mean something.

The universe, however, has different ideas. It's like a knife to the gut - that keeps twisting.

Michael reaches out, a hand on Billy's arm. "We'll put it together," he promises. "This is a set back, nothing more."

"Whoever outed you won't get away," Casey promises.

Billy tries to nod, but feels the emotion choking him.

"Besides," Rick says. "We're all going home, at least. That has to count for a little bit."

The sense of loss is palpable, but somehow Martinez is right. Because Billy almost died. He very well should have. But he's still here, his team is still here. They lost this round, but Billy knows the ODS. They can win the next one.

His eyes are still wet, but he manages a laugh. "That's not really what we wanted," he says hoarsely. "But it'll do."


End file.
